The Final Countdown
by Shadow Dragon
Summary: Why has Hermione gone missing? Why would she suddenly drop everything and run? Harry and Ron both struggle over that as they take separate actions to find their friend.
1. The Final Countdown

Ron removed a newspaper off of the bed in the small, one-roomed apartment and glanced gloomily at the front page. Percy was still causing trouble in the Department of Improper Use of Magic, it looked like. A lot of trouble, this time. Ron sighed to himself, his shoulders heaving as he dropped the paper onto the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. Ron couldn't help his depression – it came with the boredom. Harry Potter, yes, the Great Boy Who Lived, had gone on a three-month espionage mission, meaning that Ron could not contact him for three months. And it had been two years since Hermione...

"Ron! Open the window!"

Ron rubbed his hands through his hair at the sound of the screechy voice that belonged to the tenant below his apartment and sighed a second time. With an effort that shook his tired legs, he stood and shoved the window open to peer downwards. Cici Petrunich glared up at him. "Yes, Cici?" he asked tiredly, not really in a mood to deal with over-noisy witch neighbors.

"_You_ were playing that awful music last night, weren't you?" Cici accused, pointing her finger upward at him. Ron fought the urge to grimace. Cici was not an overly attractive witch at all. Her face was rather bony, and she always glared with snake-green eyes. Her blonde hair was rather stringy and she seemed to be all angles. Ron knew for a fact that her spiky elbows were quite sharp. Today, she was wearing a cow-skin print vest and a bright green shirt and headband.

"No, Cici. Ask Joe." And before Cici could say anymore, Ron pulled the window shut and flopped onto his bed, muttering about cursed neighbors.

An insistent pecking on the window brought Ron's head up not more than twenty seconds. "Please, tell me that she hasn't found a way to knock on my window…" Ron groaned to himself, but relaxed when he saw that it was only Bill's owl, Mercury. The owl, despite its odd name, was a very dark brown and he landed on Ron's ledge, cocking his head to the side. Ron once again climbed off of the bed, walked calmly to the window, and offered his arm to Mercury, who hooted gratefully.

The letter from Bill was rolled up and sealed with an official looking seal, something that nearly made Ron blink. As soon as he had grasped the tube, Mercury took off into the late afternoon sky, disappearing quickly from sight. With curious fingers, Ron pulled the tube off of the message and scanned through the contents.

_Ron,_

Just wanted to write and tell you that Bailey was born yesterday. Maria might have to be in the hospital for a few days so would it be okay that you watch Timmy? Gringotts is being merciless, so I have to leave for a trip for a few days. And Maria can't watch a four-year-old and an infant at the same time. So, would you mind terribly?

Bill

Ron glanced at the calendar on his wall and grimaced. He'd insisted upon a three day break from his job due to his exhaustion and he'd expected to spend that three days sleeping. But Timmy, red-headed and freckled like a typical Weasley, was a quiet child. At least, around Ron he was. Bill laughingly told Ron that Timmy admired his tall uncle, but was terribly afraid of upsetting him. A small half-smile crossing his face, Ron picked up the parchment and scrawled, "Sure, I'll be glad to watch him. Just let me get a little shut-eye first and then I'll come pick him up." He signed his name with a flourish, tied the note to Mercury's leg, and fell asleep before the owl could get out the window.

*** 

She raised her head when the news came, but gave no expression to the man giving the news. "You're to be moved, witch," he sneered, hand raised to slap her across the face. "So get up and walk." He pushed the white door open all of the way and jerked his hand for her to come. 

Silently, she stood, looking coolly over his handsome features as she clasped her handcuffed hands together. Her feet made no noise on the sliced linoleum. "You've kept me in the dark for a long time," she observed just as coolly as she felt the muzzle of his gun tap into the small of her back. "Three days, I counted."

"And what if I did?" he growled, pushing harder into her back. "You, Granger, are a hostage. You never should have tried to tamper with my project."

She rolled her eyes. "If I had known you were going to do this, I would never have slept with you, Jack."

"CUT!"

"Jack" holstered the gun, sighing. "What'd I do _now_?" he said in a whiny, exhausted voice. He ran a hand through his blond hair and looked irately at the writer standing next to the director, somehow sensing that she was in charge of the uncalled for interruption.

"Granger", actually a girl named Celeste Riswan, stood up completely (she'd been hunched slightly when the gun dug into her) and gave the director a snotty look. "What is it _now_?" she whined.

"Doc here says you forgot 'I warned you. I warned you not to mess with it or _bad things_ would happen to you. But you still pursued. And I don't want to have to do this…'," the director read off from the note that "Doc", the writer had given him. "Then you, Celeste say, 'If I knew you were going to do this, I would never have slept with you'. Okay? Good! Now get it right!"

*** 

"Bloody Doc, always making us stop a perfectly good scene," Celeste whined to her boyfriend, a tall black-haired man that went by the name of Clyde. They were on their way to eat out at a fancy restaurant in L. A., where Celeste wouldn't get pasted by reporters and paparazzi all night. Clyde was behind the wheel of his Saturn, barely saying a word. In the background, "Everything is Wonderful Now" by Everclear played from Clyde's radio. "You're barely talking tonight. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Clyde replied, shifting gears as he spoke. "Got a lot on my mind, that's all. I'll try not to spoil your night." He tapped the steering wheel with the fingers of his left hand as he watched a truck several hundred feet ahead swerve crazily between lanes. Eyes narrowing, he sped the Saturn up.

"What are you doing?" Celeste squealed, gripping the dashboard as Clyde still sped up. She thought she heard him mutter, "Bloody American Drivers. Need to learn the right sides of the road, they do!"

"Clyde?" she asked again, eyeing him as though they had not being an item for nearly a month. "Clyde? Are you feeling all right…?"

"Not now. I'm busy," came the short answer. Clyde focused like a madman on the swerving truck, blue eyes narrowed.

Celeste gasped as she saw the driver of the truck. "That's Doc!" she gasped, pointing.

Clyde gave her a slightly curious look and sped up so that he was practically on the tail of the truck. After a second, he jerked the steering wheel so that he was right next to the truck. "GIVE UP, HERMIONE! I CAUGHT YOU!" he shouted out his window. The truck sped up, rocketing off as though somebody wanted to get away in a hurry. Eyes narrowed in challenge, Clyde did the same.

Celeste stared at him as though he were crazy. "That's not a Hermione!" she snapped, confused. "That's Doc!"

"Dr. Granger herself," Clyde muttered. "Very clever of her to use her own last name in her script. Kept the media off of her. Very elusive tactics. Took me a year to find her, as it was. Now I need to know why she's running."

Celeste looked at Clyde as though she didn't know him. "Honey? Are you feeling okay?" she reached up to feel his forehead, but he pushed her hand away. The truck took Exit 42, Clyde right on her tail.

"There's a turn up here somewhere," Clyde muttered. He leaned forward and pulled at the dashboard. A flat black box about the size of Clyde's hand appeared suddenly, making Celeste jump. "Don't worry about this all. After it, you won't remember a thing."

He jumped the car over the green lawn along the side of the turn. "You're right!" Celeste yapped, clutching the edge of her seat harder. "After it, I won't remember a thing! I'll be DEAD!" The car flew over rocks and bumps, Clyde driving like a madman. Ahead of them, the truck was still kicking up dust. 

"Ah, there it is!"

"CLYDE!"

Celeste watched in terror as the truck with Doc in the driver's seat suddenly shot off the road, hurtling over the scraggly bushes that ran the full length along the side of the road. The truck bounced as it landed and aimed straight towards the large cement wall that supported the bridge and collided head on with the wall. A loud explosion rocked the night…

*** 

Harry rubbed at the corners of the mask of Clyde's face he wore with one hand while he retrieved his wand from its hidden holster. The mask shriveled away from his face, disappearing as he picked up the mail from the Ministry, sighing as he came to Percy Weasley's newest plea for promotion and Hercules-type acts for the Ministry. "Jani!" he called to his partner in business, dropping those on the table unread. "Jani, are you here?"

"Where else would I be?" came the snippy answer as Jani entered the small kitchen of the watch house, her hands both gathered about her right ear as she struggled to push a final earring in. Unlike conservatively dressed Harry, she was wearing an ultra-tight pair of pants with a very brilliantly orange top, her hair a very interesting shade of blue and about seven piercings in each ear. (A/N: This is NOT going to be a Mary Sue. I'm too smart for that! She's just an ultimately cool character that will contrast Harry amazingly)

"Very funny. Now, what's the update on Granger's Apparating? Did the tracking device work at all?" Harry asked, setting the black box he'd kept with him on the table for Jani to observe.

"I honestly don't believe you call her 'Granger' so flippantly! She was your best friend for how many years? Eight?" Jani asked mildly, picking up the box and rubbing it between her hands. She didn't wait for him to answer as she walked from the room, watching the box with a narrowed eye. "Potter, I tell you to keep these things in good condition. It's scratched! What's up with that?"

"Celeste fought me when I tried to put a memory charm on her," Harry replied, unbuttoning the collar of the muggle shirt he wore. "So I put the charm on her and put her in the hospital." He picked up the mail and glanced through it again and then opened the letter from Percy.  
"You didn't actually hurt her, did you?" Jani's voice was slightly muffled from the door between them, but it grew clearer as she came into the room and tossed him a slightly concerned look. 

"'Course not. Sent a memory spell team in after me to the doctors. Far as they know, both Clyde and Celeste got into a terrible accident when Clyde's car and another truck, abandoned by the driver who has mysteriously disappeared, crashed into a wall," Harry replied, skimming over the letter. "Going out tonight?"

"Of course," Jani said, her attention still on the black box, which she was attempting to pry open with a screwdriver. "Rick's picking me up at 8 and we're gonna go Night Clubbing. It IS America, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I don't trust that Rick fellow, though. But whatever. Are you done, yet?"

"Yep," Jani replied, sighing in satisfaction as the black box suddenly popped into halves. "Perfect." She pulled a slip of paper out of the middle of the two halves and handed it to Harry. As the black box with its matching orange counterpart was a thought collector that collected some random words from the public mind of the person being chased, helping along investigations greatly, the paper inside was very valuable. "This answer your questions?"

"All except the one about Apparating I asked a few minutes back," Harry replied, taking it.

"Well, in answer to your question – no. We didn't get a tracking device on – "

Harry, who had been looking over the paper, cut in angrily with, "Trust her to do something like this! It's a bunch of words that mean absolutely nothing! Doesn't tell me _why_ she's running, _where_ she's going, _how_ she's getting there! It doesn't tell me a bloody thing!" He slammed the paper down, but Jani carefully picked it up, read over it, and set it in the expanding file labeled "Granger" as Harry stormed out of the room.

* **

__

He slowly stood up, listening to the all too familiar tapping at the window. As an undercover agent for the Daily Prophet_, he got all sorts of owls at odd hours in the night. But this was a bit of an odd time, considering he'd called in for a vacation. With a groan fluttering from his lips, he pulled the window open and let the owl in. Unlike the normal _Prophet_ brown owls, this owl was entirely sleek and black. "That's odd," he muttered to himself as he untied a simple note from the leg. Its mission complete, the owl zoomed out._

The note hadn't been a sudden order from the Prophet_, like he had suspected. In fact, he had to read it three times for it to sink in at all, and then he did the sinking – he sank into the mattress, mouth open in horror and note fluttering from his hand to the ground. And the burning brand of words quickly ingrained themselves into his very brain._

"Ron,

I love you dearly. Even though we have had our differences over these past years, I can still not even begin to fathom the love I feel for you. So it is not unkind words that I leave you with.

Yes, I am leaving. I cannot say where, I cannot say why. I am leaving and there's nothing you can say that can change that. By the time you get this owl, I will have disappeared. Nobody will know the name of Hermione Anne Granger anymore. It's not because of you, never because of you, but because of myself. When the time is right, I know you will find me. Please, find me.

I love you,

Hermione."

He sat there, staring at nothing, unable to comprehend a thing. All he could think of was that she was gone, that she had left him to disappear…

***

Okay, let's take a short Author's break. Confused yet? Well, in case you are, Hermione has gone missing. Nobody knows why, as Harry said. She's just gone missing. She and Ron may or may have not been "going out" at the time she left (I'll leave that up to you to decide). This field mission Harry has gone out on is searching for Hermione. By the way, forget Celeste and Clyde, they're over with. Got that so far? Good. Let's continue confusing you!

*** 

Surprisingly, although she had been night clubbing the night before, Jani was the first one awake of the two partners. Harry, who was a moderate morning person, dragged himself into the kitchen for a cup of black coffee at about ten after eight. "Any news overnight?" he asked as he picked up the newspaper. 

"None," Jani replied, sipping her coffee as well as she glanced through the sparsely-filled 'fridge. "Except the one that said that we were supposed to go back to base. We get a week off."

"Yah, a week to get interviewed and debriefed and prodded and poked and scolded," Harry grumbled.

"Somebody's awfully grumpy this morning," Jani said with a grin.

"Why aren't YOU the one grumping? YOU went to the night clubs!" Harry retorted, grumbling into his coffee. "If you're like any other partner I had, you should be hung over."

"I _don't _drink," Jani replied easily, handing Harry another envelope, with a simple stamp of a goldfinch, the address to their stake out, and his name on it. "This came via muggle mail today. Your name on it. Somebody did some research to find us here."

"The handwriting is definitely Granger's. This could be our first big clue," Harry remarked, looking at Jani with a triumphant gleam to his eyes.

"I still don't know how you can merely call her 'Granger'," Jani muttered to herself, rubbing her forehead with her hands.

"She's keeping at least two steps ahead of us. We need to correct that when we get back from vacation," Harry continued. He pulled open the envelope and watched in amazement as two things fluttered out. A clipping from the _Daily Prophet_ and a letter, it looked like. Harry picked up the clipping and read, "Scientist Dies in Mysterious Lab Fire. Arson not suspected, but it was obvious that the fire was started by unnatural means…" he trailed off and set the article down for later inspection. After clearing his throat and taking a sip of coffee, he read off the letter, 

"Harry,

Good job. You and Jani Peterson have tracked me this far. You nearly had me for a moment there. But, unfortunately for you, you can't find me. I won't let you. This has to be done by somebody else. Somebody special to both of us. The article is a clipping that will help you figure out WHY I left.

Adieu,

Hermione A. Granger."

"Well, who's this third person that we need?" Jani asked.

"A friend," was all that Harry said. He stood, looking distantly out the window. He turned slowly to her and continued, "It's a close friend. Let's pack up and go home."

*** 

A/N: Well, confused yet? Don't worry, gets better!! This is only the first part! It's sort of a mystery and I hope nobody's figured out why she left, because not even I have. :-P!!!! Leave a review because those are good!!

  
Disclaimer: Well, whereas Jani Peterson is based off of two different people at the same time, she belongs to nobody! And Clyde hasn't shown up yet, so he's nothing to worry about! The only character I own so far is "Timmy". You'll get to meet him next time. All the rest belong to our wonderful J. K. Rowling.


	2. Angels and Fairies

"You're late!" 

Ron, who'd been waiting with his back to the door, turned as the door was open by a very enthusiastic Fred. "Fred?" he asked, confused, blinking. "Isn't this _Bill's_ house?" He was pretty sure it was, with its neat rows of petunias, white washed fence, and "happy" yellow paint. A small, one-story house, very pleasantly set out in the countryside. Ron had just Apparated onto the front porch, ready to pick up his small nephew.

"Yes, I am Fred and yes, this _is_ Bill's house," Fred replied, grinning. "Bill forgot to tell you that he had to leave in a hurry, so I'm just babysitting for awhile."

"Oh, my word. Is the kid alright?!" Ron said, trying to look shocked. Fred gave him an evil look as he let Fred into the house.

"Kid? What kid?" Fred asked innocently. But his ploy was ruined as Timmy entered quietly into the front hall.

"Hello, Timmy, how are you?" Ron asked, crouching down to his nephew's level. "Are you ready to come with me?" The boy nodded, silently, and left the room to get his suitcase.

"Can't get the kid to say a word," Fred said as soon as Timmy had left the room. "He's been silent except for a 'hello' and an 'excuse me'. Can't imagine a Weasley to be so quiet!"

"Bill was quiet at that age, Mum tells me. But then he went to Hogwarts and came back with that earring. Remember the first time Mum saw it? She freaked!"

"Ron, you were _two_," Fred replied, looking at him skeptically.

"I was five when he came back with the earring," Ron argued. "It wasn't a fang then, just a simple hoop, but Mum went ballistic." 

"It was nothing to his seventh year, when he came home with hair past his shoulders!" Fred replied, and both chortled at the memories. "Though I'm glad he decided to cut it. I mean, he's respectable now!"

"You make that sound like it's a bad thing," Ron replied, trying to look shocked.

"Oh, shaddup, 007. I'm in the black market for jokes nowadays, you know," Fred joked. He tried to look petrified. "Oh, no, are you gonna turn me in?" 

"I work for the _Prophet_. Not the Enforcers," Ron said with a sigh. "Two totally different things."

"Okay, 007."

Ron sighed again just as Timmy entered the room, trucking a suitcase after him. "The fireplace is in here, Uncle Ron," he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. He pushed open another door just as Ron grabbed the suitcase and picked it up.

"I'd best be off," Fred said and grinned. "Ta-ta, 007!"

"Farewell, Dr. No," Ron replied, finally relaxing into the joke. Fred tossed him a cheery salute and disappeared on the spot, much to the bewilderment of Timmy.

"Do they all do that?" he asked in an awed whisper.

"Do what?" Ron asked, leading him to the fireplace. "Disappear, you mean? Of course. You'll be able to when you're older." He pretended not to notice the fact that Timmy did not move from the spot where he'd seen Fred disappear. "We'd best be off, like Fred said."

*** 

"We have a muggle arson clipping, a letter that Hermione's special is to be in on the case, a bunch of random words on the thought slip, and nothing else," Jani repeated for the fourth time as she and Harry sat in the debriefing room.

"You're telling me that Granger WAS sighted, in a muggle truck?" Officer Wahles asked, looking skeptically at Harry, who was getting frustrated.

"Yes. She Apparated out of the truck, just before it crashed and she left some words that are everyday children's words on the slip of paper in this here thought box!" Harry snapped, holding up the black box. "The orange Apparating box showed nothing. She somehow managed to lose that tracker some of your agents placed on her."

"You _can't_ lose that tracker," Wahles argued, slamming both hands down onto the desk in front of him. "It's bonded to her NDA!"

"Do you mean DNA?" Jani asked, cocking an eyebrow. "If it's bonded to her DNA, why aren't your agents picking the bloody thing up?" She, unlike Harry (who was sitting stiffly in his seat, growing more and more perverse as the conversation trailed on), had kicked her legs up and was resting her sneakered feet on the table.

"That's what we sent _you_ to find out!" Wahles snapped, aiming a finger at her. "You're the Muggles specialist, being half muggle yourself – "

"I am NOT half muggle. I am completely a witch, thank you very much. The rumour that I am half squib is not true and I'm shocked that you haven't put false to those rumors," Jani snapped. 

"Wahles, we're telling you what you saw. We have the file here. Your mission specifically stated to find her, not her tracking device. So we're gonna find her. That's my best friend we're talking about and I don't care about any mission. I'm gonna find her. I'm gonna figure out WHY she's gone, and I'm gonna find her," Harry interrupted before Jani could go on. "Peterson, would you assist me?"

"Of course," Jani replied, shooting a malignant glare at Wahles. "When do we start?"

"As soon as we pick up a friend," Harry muttered, standing. "Thank you, Officer Wahles. We were granted a week's vacation and I'm pulling rank to get us a month. Once again, thank you and have a nice day."

He stalked out of the room, followed by Jani.

***

Timmy was silent for a full twenty minutes when Ron turned on the muggle television he'd bought at a pawn shop and let him watch it. But after twenty minutes, he blinked up at his uncle and said quite clearly, "Do you have a fairy that comes here, too?"

"Fairy?" Ron, in the middle of cooking, asked, glancing up. "What sort of fairy?" The word fairy brought a picture of a Cornish Pixie to his mind.

"She's a tall fairy. She's pretty," Timmy replied. "Very pretty." Ron, who had never heard his nephew string together more than a full sentence, was startled. "Do you?"

"Have a fairy? No," Ron replied, going along with the game. "Why do you ask?" The soup looked about done, so he turned the cooker off and placed the pot on a hot pad. 

"Because she just looked in the window," Timmy replied simply, pointing to the glass door that led to Ron's balcony. Turning to look out of curiosity, Ron saw a glimpse of a black cloak and leapt over the bed and yanked open the glass door. Unfortunately, the balcony was empty. "She was just there," Timmy continued, scrambling so that he stood under Ron's elbow. 

Ron glanced warily at his nephew. Whatever fairy had been visiting the boy had just shown up on his balcony. And there was no way to tell whether they were in danger or not.

***

Jani followed Harry into the equipment room and watched as he pulled several things off of the shelves. "Gag wands," he explained, pulling a box of wands off of one of the top shelves. "They work great for a duel. If you 'drop' your wand and your enemy picks it up, they'll find themselves faced with a rubber chicken." 

"Sometimes I wonder about this place," was all Jani said.

"Always have _three_ of these on you," Harry continued, picking up another box and withdrawing six pill-like objects. "They're smoke-capsules and they're very useful. One is never enough, two is just enough, and three is perfect. So always have _three_."

"Three smoke-capsules, a gag wand. Anything else? Dungbombs?" Jani asked sarcastically.

"I almost forgot!" Harry slapped his forehead with his hand and reached into another box. When he saw the look Jani gave him, he stopped. "What?" 

"We seriously are NOT gonna carry dungbombs around, right?" Jani asked, her eyes wide.

"Dungbombs? Why would we do that?" Harry gave her a strange look. "Are you feeling all right?" He handed her a smallish green object, the shape of a pyramid. "As long as you keep this with you, we'll be able to contact you. Simple, eh? Sort of a muggle technology, but better."

"Simple," Jani replied, tucking it into her pocket. "I hope. But I thought _I_ was the items specialist!"

"Well, I have a large stock of joke items and some, er, personal items that I feel we need that the Enforcement Agency doesn't," Harry replied, gesturing for her to precede him out the door and shutting it behind him. "But before we go anywhere, we need to pick up two people."

"_Two_ people?" Jani asked, staring as Harry dropped a long coil of rope that was hanging next to the door in the storage shed into her hands. "Which two people?"

"First, a friend of mine. Lance Petrol. Lance's an undercover agent, an actual half-muggle, but darned good with computers and a great tracker. He'll get the technology side working while we work the magic side."

"And the second?"

"Ron Weasley. Granger's school sweetheart."

***

"Is she an angel or a fairy?" Timmy asked as Ron filled his bowl with soup and set it in front of him. "Is there a difference?"

"There's a very big difference," Ron replied, filling up his own bowl. "She's a fairy. A big one. She has to be. Because she doesn't have wings."

"But fairies have wings, too," Timmy argued, putting his spoon down and glaring slightly. "Pretty lacy wings, Mummy says."

"Not _all_ fairies have wings. There are human fairies," Ron told him, wondering why he was holding an argument like that. "Now eat your dinner. Then you'll have to tell me what this fairy looks like." 

"She has pretty yellow hair," Timmy said after a moment. Ron didn't reply, so a slightly tense silence descended upon the table. Therefore, both heard the sliding glass door open, slowly, as if somebody was trying to be quiet. "She's back," Timmy whispered, not daring to glance over his shoulder at the sliding glass door.

Ron only reached out and gripped his hand, for Timmy had started to shake. "She can't hurt you, I'm here," he whispered. He slowly turned to face the sliding door and stared as he saw a black clad arm holding a flame torch to the cheap curtains Ron had bought at the pawn shop. "Timmy!" Before either knew what was going on, Ron had grabbed the four-year-old by the middle and was sprinting for the door. He hurtled through and shot down the stairs before either of them could come to harm.

"Uncle Ron! She's following us!" Timmy's voice was muffled in the sleeve of Ron's robe, but Ron sprinted on. "She's pointing something at us!"

Ron turned his head and stopped, shocked. The black-clad figure, or fairy as Timmy had called her, had stopped and was standing, her cloak whipping about her, face hidden, and a gun pointing at them. "What do you want with us?" Ron called, his voice cracking. 

"I want you dead."

She was pointing the gun specifically at Timmy. Ron fumbled for his wand, but the pale hand holding the gun had moved back to him and he stopped, petrified. "Why do you want me dead?"

"Who cares about you, fool? _He's_ the link." The voice was deep and cold with anger and hatred. The gun was back to Timmy.

The next few seconds were a blur of black and white as the door to a nearby apartment crashed open, a figure cloaked in blue sped out and whipped the gun out of the hand of the figure cloaked in black. Ron blinked and turned and sprinted towards the elevator. But before he could get there, the figure in blue shouted, "STOP!"

It was a voice he had not physically heard in two years, but also the voice that lulled him to sleep every night. He stopped, but his feet kept churning and his heart beat faster, and he fell to his knees. Timmy squirmed free and started sprinting back to the fighting figures, shouting "Angel, Angel!"

There was a loud explosion sound, like a bomb going off somewhere in the distance and then everything froze. Ron, on his knees and reaching out to grab Timmy's arm, glanced about. Timmy hung suspended in the middle of a childlike bound, the figure in the black cloak frozen in the middle of a high kick. The faint smell of smoke tingled in Ron's nostrils, but he could hear nothing. And only one thing moved.

The figure who had been cloaked in blue was now removing the blue cloak so that she faced Ron in a pair of slightly baggy jeans and a black T-shirt that was cut at the bottom so that it looked ripped. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she had no glasses to cover her aqua-colored eyes. "Hermione," Ron choked, staring.

"You know, it's really not polite to stare," Hermione replied, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around him. She laid her head on his shoulder as he, numbed with shock, hugged her back. "It's been too long!"

Before he could convince himself that it was just his imagination playing tricks with him, Ron grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her away so that he could look her in the eyes and get the honest truth. "Why did you disappear? Why?"

Hermione's face grew closed, and her eyes shut for a moment. When she opened them again, they were red-rimmed. She opened her mouth, as though caught off guard, and shut it again. When she finally spoke, it was in a broken voice. "I had to leave. You can't possibly understand now, because if you did, you'd just be a danger to all of us. But I had to leave. I stopped time to visit you…visit you and Timmy." She turned to the boy and swept her hand to him, so that he continued his bound and stopped, confused.

"Angel!" he cried suddenly, sprinting for the two. Hermione smiled down at him as he attached himself to her leg.

"I thought I told you angels had wings," Ron found himself saying.

"But she's a _human_ angel," Timmy replied with an air of knowledge. "She protects me from the fairy." He glanced solidly at Ron and Ron no longer saw a shy four-year-old, but an intelligent genius working in that mind.

At this, Ron glanced back at the figure in black and started toward her. "No!" Hermione cried, grabbing his arm. "No, you mustn't know who she is until the time comes! If you do, you could screw up the whole plan!" She clung with her whole might to Ron's arm and hauled him back. "Please, don't. Just find me, the right way. Find me and everything will be right again."

And then she kissed his cheek, a simple, quick movement, and walked back to her cloak. Ron reached out to her, to hold her, to make her stay, but she shook her head at him. "Run while you can," she whispered to him. With a salute, she tossed off, "Until we meet again," and disappeared. The black-cloaked figure disappeared as well.

"The angel disappears again," Timmy muttered. He and Ron stared at each other for a long moment before the smoke started pouring into the hallway. 

"We'd better get out of here! Quick!" Ron snapped, and grabbed Timmy around the middle again. He sprinted for the elevator once again, praying that this time, nobody was chasing him with a gun.

***

"Since Lance is half muggle, we can't meet him the normal way, through Apparation," Harry explained to Jani as they walked up the front walk to Lance Petrol's one-story house. "So we Apparate a couple blocks away, into a telephone booth, and then we walk up to his front door, like 'normal people'."

"Understandable," Jani replied, hefting her bag as they reached the front porch.

"Watch where you step," Harry advised. "And I mean this seriously." He was careful to avoid standing on the front mat. "This is rigged. If you stand on it too long, it's a trap door and you fall into a cage until Lance decides to let you out."

"_Why_?" Jani asked, eyes widened.

"His idea of a joke. Thinks it's funny as heck," Harry replied nonchalantly. Jani stepped onto the front porch and was about to move to the right of the doorstep. "No! Don't step th—too late." Jani shrieked in surprise as a loud alarm pierced through the late evening air and the front door flew open. Sparks shot out of the doormat, shooting everywhere and bouncing off trees and trash cans and telephone poles. 

"Who's there?" a startled shout rang out and Lance Petrol himself appeared, wearing blue striped pajamas. Jani was dancing about, trying to avoid the sparks, and Harry was laughing maniacally. "Oh, it's you."

"I'd like to let you know that you are under arrest for enchanting a muggle item," Harry said humorously as the sparks suddenly stopped and Jani, panting, stood still. "Petrol, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Can't I just bribe you and you two be on your way?" Lance whined, brushing both hands through his dishwater blond hair. He had keen brown eyes and a lithe figure, but his face was pitted with several scars.

"Yeah, you'll have to do some serious bribing, though. Luckily, I'm not here on Enforcer business. I've come to ask a favor. And if you turn my favor down, I'll whip out my badge and be back to business, so here's the deal," Harry said coolly. "Got a friend missing and Jani and I are out to find her. You either help or it's to the Wizard Jail with you, even if you ARE half-Squib."

"Fine, fine, let me just get changed. As I obviously don't have a choice," Lance grumbled. However, he shot Jani a kind of flirty look just before he disappeared back into the house.

"He's coming onto you," Harry said, laughing.

Jani just glared.

***

A/N: Okay, what do you think? If you made it this far, surely you can post a review! C'mon, ppppppppppllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssseeeeeeeee???????? Please, please, please? Okay, enough begging. What do you think? Who's your favorite character? (Mine, personally, is Jani for reasons I will not reveal for now) Leave those in your review, if you will!! 


	3. Unsent Letters

The Final Countdown – Unsent Letters

Part Three of "The Final Countdown"

"Okay, first step, to find Ron," Harry said as they all sat in Lance's living room. Jani was sitting on the massive couch, but she had moved her legs across the cushions, blocking anybody else from sitting on the couch. Lance had asked to sit on the couch, but she had given a very cold look and he had retreated to a chair. Harry was perched on the edge of a recliner with a bunch of papers from the file marked "Granger" on the small table in front of him.

"Ron Weasley?" Lance asked. "I've had many a-run in with him. He's a friend of mine." At this, Jani gave Lance a curious look and he shrugged.

"We'll pick Ron up later. He's on some off time right now, I do believe," Harry said. "I took the liberty of checking into his schedule. Until he joins the team, I think we can review the facts of Granger's disappearance. We'd better start from the beginning, if you ask me."

"Where exactly did she disappear from?" Lance asked with his Australian accent, glancing at Jani, who gave him a disgusted look in return.

"Nobody knows exactly. She was reported missing after two months of the actual date by Ron. He'd gotten a note from her the night she disappeared, on a completely black owl, but didn't tell anybody. A month ago marked the two year date of her disappearance," Jani recited readily. When Harry glanced at her, slightly surprised, she grinned and said, "What? You actually thought that if you left me alone all day in a stake-out with nothing to do that I wouldn't get nosy?"

"Understandable," Harry agreed, rolling his eyes. He picked up a Muggle replica of a wide-mouthed bass floundering in foamy white spray and fingered it while he talked. "Granger's job is still unknown, unfortunately…"

"But don't we still have that article?" Jani asked. "That should give us some clue as to what she did." Before Harry could say anything, she snatched the file marked "Granger" out of his reach and flipped through it. "Here, look. I took some time to review it earlier and the distinct impression I got was that this Arnold Benson is a critical part of whatever's going on."

Lance gave Harry an impish grin. "Well, looks like she's got this case more covered that you ever will, Potter," he said in a thick Australian accent. Both Jani and Harry stared. "What? Oh, it's the accent, isn't it? I picked it up a couple of years back at me old Pub in Aussie." 

"It never said what sort of scientist Benson was," Jani continued after a short pause. "But whatever he was, it has something definitely to do with Hermione Granger's disappearance. These letters could be a hoax and Granger could be dead, but I've learned to trust my gut and my gut says that she's very much alive and playing games with us."

"This article is from _The Daily Prophet_?" Lance asked, picking up the article. He scanned it over quickly and stood up. "I'm gonna send this to a friend of mine. Billy Reppart. He's got every issue of _The Daily Prophet_ since 1948. We'll figure out when this was published."

"Date's right here," Jani replied, tapping the article. "May 12th, four years ago."

"Oh, okay," Lance muttered, looking sheepish. 

"It's somewhere in the south of England, in a small village. We'll visit tomorrow. But for right now, I'm kind of tired. I think I shall go to bed. I'll be back in the morning," Jani continued. "Good night, Harry, Lance." She Apparated off.

***

It started to rain right after Ron and Timmy exploded out of the side of the apartment building, so both got great splats of water splashed over them. Within a moment, the pavement was slick so that it mirrored the streetlights and the blazing fire shooting out of the window from Ron's apartment. Timmy began to cough from the smoke and tears poured down his cheeks. "The angel left," he wheezed between coughing fits. "She left us."

"We'll find her," Ron promised him, picking him up from where he'd been on his hands and knees on the cold street. "Is that all right with you? If we go look for her?"

"You can't find an angel. They find you," Timmy replied firmly. But his eyes, streaked with tears as they were, were hopeful as he looked to Ron. "Think we could?" he asked in a small voice.

"We can try," Ron told him with a confidence that he didn't feel. "We can certainly try." He moved Timmy to a position where they would be comfortable during the Apparation and disappeared so suddenly that when firemen pulled in a split second later, they didn't see him.

***

Whatever awakening was, it was slow and as excruciatingly painful as it could be. He was initially jarred out of his sleep by a sudden shaking of his upper body and an agony in his left leg, but the effects of consciousness still took awhile to come around, spurred by groans of agony and spurts of red fluttering in front of his eyes. When he came fully to awareness, pain exploded all over his body. 

He screamed from the pain and heard a low laugh coming from his left. Or, at least, he thought it came from his left. In his agony, there was no way to tell. All he knew was that there was a large white blur above him and that the surface below his bare back was cold and metal. His hair clung to his forehead and skull in cold wet clumps of what he could only hope was water, and his feet were bare. Agony cascaded up his entire body in waves of red and sparkling white.

And then, out of nowhere, a voice deprived of emotion, a voice that was colder and harder and darker than a piece of coal. "Victim 23 is awake."

They were words that he would never forget, just words that have no meaning and become useless clutter that will pop up when remembering an ordeal. But they were also words that a meaning…a meaning that he was terrified of…

"Victim 23?" he choked, trying to lift his head. Unfortunately, aside from making his vision swim, this did no good.

"Don't move, 23, you're strapped down. You'll only hurt yourself." Unlike the first voice, this was a kind female voice full of compassion, worry for _him_. "Keep still. The straps will inflict considerable pain if you struggle."

He was so taken aback by the kindness in the voice that he stopped pulling against the straps binding him to the cold metal and tried to look around to find the source. But the room he was in was bare across the extremely white walls and reflecting metal floor. In fact, the ceiling was just as bleakly white and empty as the rest of the room, save for the fact that it was emanating light over him.

"Don't look for me. You can't see me." He still twisted about, trying to find any source, any source at all, as to where the voice was coming from.

"Victim 23, activity scale higher than 3.52…asserting sleep drug now…"

And everything about him slowly darkened until he found himself in that stage between sleep and death…

***

The tapping penetrated Harry's wild dreams as he slept along on Lance's beaten in couch, ramming harshly along the insides of his ears until he was driven to wakefulness. "What?" he spluttered, glancing about and reaching for his wand on the floor beside him, just in case of danger. "Hello?" The tapping continued loudly and Harry spun towards the only large window in the room: the window next to the front door.

"I'm coming, Mum. Just a minute. I have to change my…" came from the partially open door to Lance's bedroom as Harry peered curiously at the window. To his intense surprise, Hermione stared back, her nose red and cheeks blotchy.

"Hermione…?" Harry trailed off, and something inside snapped. With an intensity that he'd never known he possessed, he leapt up and grabbed the doorknob, yanking the door open and reaching out for Hermione. But something stopped his hand as Hermione stared at him, shocked. With a startled thought, Harry raised his hand to his head and threaded his fingers through his hair and stared back, shocked that his secret was out.

It was then that Hermione disappeared completely, not even pausing to give Harry a shocked look as she left. And Harry stood there, as shocked as she had been, his hand still in his hair, wondering about how he could be so careless…

***

A/N: Just a short pause. Are we REALLY confused now? Who is Victim 23? Why did Hermione show up on Lance's doorstep and why did she look shocked when she saw Harry's, er, secret? Well, let's continue on with Ron and Timmy…

***

"She's not home," Ron said to himself as they knocked for the fourth time on the door of Ginny's apartment. Timmy was peering into the petunias with an air of curiosity, poking at the flowers with his small index finger. "Where could she be?" he mumbled to himself, resisting the urge to pound on the door again. "She didn't mention any trips lately!"

"She could be sitting right behind you, wondering why you're on her front door step," a warm voice said behind him.

Ron turned, a grin plastered over the startled look on his face, and beamed down at his sister. "Thank the wood! You're here!"

"Yes, I am, but why are you?" Ginny asked, looking slightly confused. As a Muggle to Wizard Ambassador (to a very small group called "The Watchers"), she had taken it upon herself to wear khaki pants and a baby-blue top that made the blue in her eyes stand out.

"I'm doing an important mission for…uh…work, and I need you to watch Timmy for an hour…"

"You're going to find Hermione?" Ginny squealed, looking as though she were only sixteen with the excitement radiating across her face. "Finally?"

"Wait a second…how did you know?" Ron peered suspiciously at her.

"Ron, you love the girl. I'm just surprised it took you_ this_ _long_. After all," Ginny replied, grinning broadly, "it's been two years."

"If it's gonna be this obvious, I'm in for some trouble," Ron groaned.

"An angel visited us today, Aunt Ginny," Timmy told. He looked at Ron and then focused his gaze back on Ginny. "A pretty angel."

"A pretty angel?" Ginny asked, glancing at Ron as well. "What kind of pretty angel?"  
"Hermione showed up out of nowhere. Saved our lives. Somebody burned down my apartment," Ron explained in a low voice. "I _have_ to go pick up some files from work. Please watch him, please…"

Ginny nodded quickly and opened her front door as Ron turned and tore off down the street, disappearing between his eight and ninth steps, oblivious to the fact that Timmy was calling out for him…

***

Harry turned as Lance, rumpled from sleep, entered the room. "What's goin' on, mate?" he asked in a very thick, sleepy Australian accent.

"Where's Jani? We have a new break in the case, and where is she?" Harry demanded of the sleepy spell-hacker. "At home, probably shacked up with Rick!"

"Where does Rick live?" Lance yawned, running his free hand through his hair as he covered his mouth.

"Somewhere in England. Jani's never specified _where_. He's an odd sort. I've met him twice," Harry explained. "Jani's 'man', as I've heard some people (friends of hers) that I've met say."

"Sounds like she runs with a wild group," Lance observed. "A very wild group." This was said as he pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. Harry followed him, suddenly hungry. "Er, watch what you eat in here. It might get…dangerous. Don't drink any of the beer, that's for sure." Harry had been reaching for the beer in the cooling unit, but he jerked his hand back sheepishly. 

"Yeah, Jani runs with a very wild group. But she's brilliant. Purely genius. Tracked down three Azkaban Deatheaters by herself at the age of sixteen. Her style's a very unique one. Plays everything 'by ear', as the muggles would say." Harry poured himself a glass of wine from Lance's wine cabinet and sipped it cautiously. After a moment, he lowered the glass and twirled the wine inside. "When she was assigned to the 'Granger Files' with me, I was a little worried."

"Why?"

"Because Hermione's not a criminal. She's a mastermind. Criminals that work for Lord Voldemort are stupid. They hide in groups and pretend to be so brave and able to diss Lord Voldemort in a moment, but they're easy to find. And also easy to battle using several different muggle techniques. Which, I might add, Jani can do. But, she's seen it rough. She stood charged with killing her older brother once (his killer was caught three months later). If you ever get into a conversation with her about dark wizards, it can be quite dangerous."

"Dangerous? Conversation with that little pip?" Lance looked skeptical.

"Jani might not be good at trapping masterminds, but she can knock you flat and unconscious before you get a thought in," Harry told him earnestly. "And trust me, don't test her. The result…it won't be pretty."

"I'll remember that," Lance told him, tipping a beer can at him.

"I thought you told me not to drink the beer," Harry said quizzically.

"Well, it's _my_ beer," Lance said logically.

***

As it was, Ron stumbled over quite a few pieces of furniture on his way to a light of any sort, pointing at the fire to make it ignite so that he could see his paperwork files. "Granger, Granger," he muttered to himself, pulling out his desk chair and going through the cluttered drawers. After a moment, his fingers found their mark and he shoved papers off of his crowded desk to open the file.

The file opened to reveal a wizard photograph taken nearly three years before. Hermione's face blinked up at him, grumpy from the darkness and confused as to why he would be looking through the file. Ron paused, his fingers hovered above the page to flip to the next, caught in a strange sort of lovesick trance. Several files flopped onto the floor, startling him back into reality.

His fingers thirstily turned the page, whipping past Ron with tidbits of information that would probably assist him in finding Hermione. But he stopped on an otherwise blank sheet of parchment, reading over it quickly. Over the two years, he had enchanted the parchment to mark down whoever sighted Hermione and where. The list was continually growing and with a leap of astonishment, Ron saw that he had been added near the end. But that was not what caught his eye.

Hand written under all the flourished names were two more names. "Harry Potter – California Highway" was written in bold letters, followed by "Jani Peterson – King's Cross". The writing was bold and dainty at the same time, very abrupt and to the point. Ron stared at it in confusion for a moment until it hit him. That was Hermione's writing!

Startled, Ron flipped through the rest of the file, but nothing else had been touched. But he still found what he was looking for.

Arnold Benson, Jr.

4218 H 

Falcon Courts North

New Jersey

Excited, Ron grabbed the folder and snapped it shut instants before he disappeared.

***

When Jani Apparated to Lance's front stop the next morning, she had not expected to find Harry slung across the couch, exhausted. From the bedroom, Lance was loudly snoring, his breath uneven. "They've been drinking again," she snapped. With a sigh, she Apparated out, too annoyed to deal with them.

***

The door to Ginny's house was ajar when Ron landed in the same place he'd left from, so he walked in and shut the door behind him, not knowing what a mess would greet him. Just inside the door to the living room, he stopped and stared. The couch and had been tipped over and the pottery vases that Ginny prided herself for were shattered, bits spread everywhere. Parchment was scattered across the floor, ink still dripping freshly onto the floor. And Ginny was lying, pale and bleeding, in the middle of the floor.

"GINNY!" Ron screamed, and hurtled over the inert couch to wake her. "Ginny? Are you okay?" It was a dumb question; of course, she wasn't okay. What was he thinking? But he had to ask it just to prove to himself that it was_ real_, that Ginny was injured in front of him and not pulling some prank.

"Ronnie, Ron…they took Timmy," Ginny wheezed. "They came in and just carried him off. Ron…you've got to save him!"

"Not until we get you to a hospital," Ron said firmly, hoisting her up. Blood came off on his robes, but he didn't care. It was only a second before they both disappeared.

***

A/N: Well, this is the best place to end. I'm only predicting two more chapters of this saga. Sorry I took so long to get this one up. I had to rewrite it. But that's okay. It's slightly shorter than the rest of them, but I didn't have enough space, so this will have to do! Hope you like it, please review! (Hey, look, I'm a poet! Hee hee)


	4. Fatal Games

The Final Countdown – Fatal Games

By Shadow Dragon

Ron paced with a considerable amount of frustration in the waiting room in Werner's Emergency Center for Bad Injuries and Boo-Boos. Magazines (_Witch Weekly, The Mystery of Muggles, and International Wizarding Club_) were stacked high on a small table nearby, but Ron was too worked up to even look through them. Normally, he would have picked up _Witch Weekly_ just to laugh at it, but worry for Ginny and Timmy clouded his mind. Indeed, he could not force himself to sit still in one of the cushioned chairs waiting in the room for him.

"My word, Ron, you look as though your wife is about to have a baby!" somebody remarked.

"I don't have a – " Ron got out before he realized that he was not alone in the room. He turned slowly and stared, before an expression of disbelief came across his features. "You're never gonna leave me alone, are you?"

Hermione blinked levelly back at him and suddenly grinned. "Nope. I'm pretty much here every step of the way."

"Then why did you let them take Timmy?" Ron groaned out, exasperated. He leapt over a chair to get to her quicker. "Why?" He reached out to grab her arm angrily, but she pulled away.

"There was nothing I could do, Ron. Not a thing. Timmy's safe, I can tell you that. He's okay. They won't hurt him. They're after somebody else."

"Who?" Ron asked tersely.

"Alicia. Ally. The second project." Hermione glanced away, but Ron could only stare at her, wondering about what she was talking about.

It took Ron a minute to digest this information before he could ask, "Project?" He blinked several times, but restrained himself from grabbing her arm. "_What _project? And what's the _first_ project?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't tell you."

Ron swelled up in anger, his eyes bulging out of his head and the temper that he had tried to control after school slowly becoming unraveled. He pushed his face up close and said very harshly, "You can't tell me? Well, guess what! I'm getting tired of playing this game! My _sister_ is in the emergency room, perhaps one heartbeat away from death and you CAN'T TELL ME!?"

In his anger, he reached out to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, rage flowing through his blood, fueled by the pent up worry he had held for Ginny and Timmy both. And such was his rage that he almost didn't notice when his fingers passed right through her.

"RON!"

Ron turned to see Ginny standing in the door, looking shocked. Of course, if Ron had not been so angry, he would have seen what the picture looked like, his face a mere two inches from Hermione's and his hands on (through, though he was still too angry to notice) her shoulders. And then he would have known why Ginny looked so shocked. She hobbled up to him slowly, her face showing _very_ slight scars on the right side and arm held protectively over her right set of ribs. Then she stopped, eyes growing wider. "Hermione? What the…"

It was at this moment in time when Ron noticed that his hands had passed completely through Hermione's shoulders and he pulled back, startled and shocked. Hermione looked from one to the other, considerably paler than she had been. "Ginny. It's good to see you again…"

"_What_ are you?" Ginny asked, backing away slowly.

"This? I'm using projection magic. If you can see me, then you were meant to. It's tricky magic, it is. Only shows me to the people who need to see me." Hermione looked nervously at her childhood friend. "Don't tell anybody. But I have to help you two out. It's not about finding my enemies anymore. Several things have fallen out of hand and had grown into weeds."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Project X. He's been stolen, obviously. And Project Z is in danger." Hermione said this slowly and carefully.

"Project X? That's Timmy," Ginny told Ron with a sure tone. She had picked up on the act quickly and was defter in finding an answer than he would ever be. From the shy little girl she had been, she had grown into a beautiful young woman, buoyant and sophisticated, very discreet and good at reading body language. Now she gave Hermione a leveled look. "Why?"

"I can't tell you," Hermione repeated firmly. "If I were to tell you…you don't know who is listening. They just know Timmy is important. He holds something…something that could destroy the world. And if I were to tell you what that thing is and how to find it completely…you realize that you had a weapon in your hands, Ron? That's why I needed you to find me – that weapon will not be deactivated until a certain person is revealed. And to find me, you have to reveal that certain person!"

Before either Ron or Ginny could say anything more, she disappeared completely from view, watching with mournful eyes as Ron lunged for her one last time.

"What was that about?" Ginny asked.

"Timmy continued to go on about angels and fairies. Hermione was the angel. The fairy wants him dead. Therefore the fairy wants to destroy the weapon…" Ron muttered to himself. He started pacing. "That must mean that the fairy isn't actually evil, but _stupid_…"

"That's the trait of any Slytherin, right there, that is," Ginny muttered, but Ron wasn't paying any attention.

"And that means…"

"RON! Pause!" Ginny finally said, grabbing his arm to stop his annoying pacing. "First, start from the beginning. _Where_ did she disappear from?"

"A laboratory. She worked with…uh…" Ron paused for a moment. "Benson!" This was followed by a long string of incoherent words as Ron dug through his pocket and removed a piece of paper that read:

Arnold Benson

4218 H

Falcon Courts North

New Jersey

Underneath that writing, there was a map, which Ron studied very closely before shutting it. "We pay this Benson guy a visit and see what he knows. He ought to know something about this whole thing…"

***

"Eight ball, corner pocket," Jani remarked with an air of self-assurance as she sauntered around the pool table. Her partner in the game scowled, but let up, leaning slightly on the long, thin pool stick. As Jani bent low over the table, there was a loud, annoying screeching and Jani threw off her coat in surprise. However, she never let go of the pool cue, so it knocked the white ball so that drifted and tapped the black eight ball, sending it two inches from the pocket. The beeping stopped and then Harry's voice came loudly. 

"Jani? Where the heck are you, girl?" 

"My name is _not_ girl," Jani replied darkly, "and I am playing pool with a friend."

"Pool? Isn't it a bit _cold_ outside?" Harry's voice was genuinely puzzled.

"No, pool the game, you half-wit," Jani told him, rolling her eyes.

"Whatever, but get to Lance's pronto!" And then there was a loud screech, which ended the communication and then Jani pulled the other arm into her jacket so that it didn't hang limply from her right arm anymore.

"I'm _supposed_ to be on vacation right now," Jani grumbled. "He needs to learn to ask politely."

"Could be worse," her partner remarked, drawing a string of brown hair out of her eyes. She grinned, her straight teeth shining white.

"This is all your fault," Jani muttered, annoyed, before not only she, but the eight ball, disappeared.

***

"This is the place, I'm sure," Ron told Ginny as they finished jogging up the sidewalk, staring at the crumbling base housing at the American air force base. The house was on the end of a long line of houses, all brick with drab green siding. A small patch of yard (mostly sidewalk), with a few scraggly bushes lined the area. "Hide your wand. These are muggles that we're dealing with."

Ginny was still in her khaki slacks and light blue T-shirt (she'd magicked all of the blood off of it), but Ron had donned a pair of slightly faded jeans, work boots, and a white T-shirt. He looked more like a steel worker than a researcher, so he had mussed his hair to make himself look more believable. It was Ginny who rang the doorbell.

"What do you think he'll look like?" Ron asked while they waited for somebody to answer the door.

"Old, angry, I don't know. He's American. I'm English. I wouldn't know!" Ginny said, shrugging.

Just then, the door crept open and a man not much older than Ron peered out. "Yes?" he asked curiously. He was a lot shorter than Ginny, but he was thinly agile, with a full mop of almost black hair and piercing brown eyes. A drab green military jumpsuit suited his form, with "Benson" in bold blue letters on his left pocket.

"Hello, Mr. Benson, this is Ron and I'm Ginny. We're doing a little research about a missing person. Could we ask you some questions?"

The man gave Ginny a wide-eyed look, but nodded and gestured wordlessly for them to enter. Both entered to find a dining room and living room combined, with off-white walls and simple blue curtains. A blue couch, slightly faded, sat along one wall, opposite of a muggle television set, which was sitting on a small table. A flat box sat on top of that, with a plastic cartridge sticking out. Next to the couch, a lamp sat on a table, cheerily burning despite the daylight outside. "Anything I can get you? A Coke? Tea, perhaps?" Mr. Benson asked, looking slightly nervous. Both Ginny and Ron sat on the couch, but 

"We're fine," Ginny said before Ron could say he wanted some tea. "We'll hurry with our questions, so we don't take up too much of your afternoon."

"That's okay, take up as much time as you wish. Maggie should be getting home from school soon," Mr. Benson glanced towards the windows next to the television. "She'll like having company. Especially with your accents."

"Mr. Benson, we're looking for Dr. Hermione Granger. Have you heard of her?" Ron began immediately. "We believe she worked with on cracking a case involving Projects X and Z and DNA."

Mr. Benson paled up to his hairline and looked at them with an odd expression on his face. "How did you know about that? It shouldn't have been on the news…they can't get me…"

"Mr. Benson, calm down," Ginny said, tossing an alarmed look at Ron. "We just want to know some facts."

Mr. Benson was looking at them with a queer expression on his face now. "Dr. Granger was my father's closest confidante. She was in his will when he died…"

"Your father, sir?" Ron asked when Mr. Benson paused.

"Yes, my father was the one involved in the experiments. His name was Arnold James Benson, Sr. I'm Arnold James Benson, Jr." Mr. Benson paused and wet his lips. "He died in a fire. They said it wasn't arson, but I knew it was. Dr. Granger warned me that they would come for me. She gave me Maggie and I joined the air force and got moved to here." He glanced about. "Not quite up to the ritzy mansion father and I used to live in, but it's cozy."

"Maggie, sir?" Ginny asked, looking slightly puzzled. "Who's Maggie?"

"Maggie. My father's main project. There was another little boy, but I never knew his name. Dr. Granger said that two of you, redheads, were going to show up to take Maggie one day. Are you?" Mr. Benson looked weary as he said this, and Ron and Ginny exchanged looks. "I can't take care of her anymore. She's…too wild…"

"Too wild?" this was surprised question from both Ginny and Ron. They exchanged looks, but Mr. Benson didn't see because he had gotten up and was now pacing.

"It's not a sense of wildness…not really," he told them in a bemused voice. "She's supposedly only four years old…"

At this point, he was interrupted as the form of a thirteen-year-old girl walked in, looking confused. Mr. Benson jumped back from the blonde girl, his eyes widening in shock. "Maggie!" he gasped. "You're…thirteen!"

"No," the girl, Maggie, replied. "I'm four." She grinned mysteriously and then suddenly, it was the short form of a four-year-old standing there. Ron's eyes bugged out and he stood up. 

"Ginny," he said, staring at the girl. "If Timmy was Project X,_ she's_ gotta be project Z!" At the mention of Timmy's name, the girl's head swung around and she stared back at Ron, suddenly pale. She had silvery blonde hair and dark, intelligent eyes, with a thin frame, and broad shoulders.

"She knows about Timmy," Ginny told Ron in a hushed voice. She changed to her voice to a soothing tone and said, "Hello, Maggie. I'm Ginny Weasely and this is my brother, Ron Weasely."

"I know who you are. You're related to Timmy and you're looking for him because he's gone missing, aren't you?" Maggie asked shrewdly, four-year-old eyes narrowing.

"How do you know about Timmy?" Ron asked. Mr. Benson was sitting down now, his forehead on his palm, ignoring everybody else. Maggie glanced at him once, seemed to shrug, and turned towards Ginny and Ron again.

"I know things I'm not supposed to," she said, and it was a fifteen-year-old girl standing in front of them now. "Society hates me. I'm too weird. But I _know_. I _know_ what they think, and I _know_ everything that Timmy _knows_."

"How?" was Ginny's only question. Maggie peered at her for a moment and blinked. Suddenly, the four-year-old, silvery-blonde girl was there again, looking terribly frightened.

"The angel visits me and she helps me," Maggie told her.

"The angel is Hermione," Ron explained. "Do you know where Timmy is?"

"No. I cannot reach him. It's dark there, and cold. And he hates it. There are mean people…very mean people." And suddenly, Maggie had burrowed into Ginny's lap and was hiding her head.

***

"Victim 23," and somebody was shaking him gently. "Victim 23…" The man known simply as Victim 23 moaned loudly and turned over, trying to ignore the wake-up call. However, the person shaking him was not about to let up.

"What?" he finally asked crankily.

"Your meal is here."

"Then leave it on my bedside table and be gone."

"Yes, sir." And there was the sound of something being set down and then footsteps walking away. Victim 23 turned, realizing thankfully that the mental straps they'd had on him were gone, and looked questioningly at the meal. It was not some sort of substandard hospital meal as he had suspected, but an actual baked potato, piping hot, steak, with a few greenbeans and carrots staked around the sides, a can of simple muggle Pepsi, and a plate of Black Forest Cheesecake. Sitting beside the cheesecake was a little blue container that looked like it held butter. He picked that up first. Instead of opening to reveal butter, a small folded piece of paper fell out.

With trembling hands, he picked it up and read over it. 

"Victim 23,

For fear that this message will be intercepted, I will not leave my name. 

Hidden under your steak is a card that will have a false identity. Hide this under yourself. It will come in handy tonight in the eight minutes between the guard switches. Hidden under the potato is a watch that will let you know when guards approach and when they switch duties. When they switch will be your time to escape. Hidden under the cake plate is a map of the facility. Use these all to your best advantage and good luck.

Nameless."

"There's an angel watching over me," he whispered to himself as he picked up the card for a "Hopkins, Robert". He quickly place this in the folds of his T-shirt behind his back. "After three days of being festooned in this place, I'm finally getting out," he thought as he hid the map and the watch. Four hours until he was able to escape, with a false identity and a new hope…

***

"This is the lab that burned down," Harry told Lance and Jani as they all struggled up a hill in the brisk California morning air. There was a dilapidating building at the direct top of the hill, glimmering slightly in the sunlight. "The muggles kept the remains for a police site, so we'll be fine looking through it." 

"If you say so," Jani said, her wand out despite all of this. "I don't trust the air here."

Lance had his laptop strapped to his back. Now, he took a moment to pause and sniff the air. "Yep, there's trouble."

On the heels of his last word, a blast of red shot out narrowly missing Jani. "Oh, no, you don't," she growled and nobody in particular and shot a green blast back. "Everybody duck!" she shouted belatedly, and Harry and Lance hit the ground hard, wands out. Jani, however, stood tall, glaring. "They're after me, I know they are. Harry, Lance, you try the back way, I'm gonna pull them this way."

And she took off, sprinting and leaving them behind.

"That girl," Lance snarled. "She's gonna get herself killed."

"She's more than a girl and calling her one is a man's biggest folly," Harry muttered as they crawled across the hill. "She knows how to protect herself, never you worry."

"I don't trust it, there's something wrong with her if they want to suddenly shoot her," Lance muttered back.

"DEATH EATERS!" Jani screamed, running suddenly into view. "Four of them! I saw them just before…before they disappeared!" She looked absolutely angry, and her eyes blazed with fury.

"Voldemort's gone, though," Harry mused. "Why would Death Eaters attack us at place like this?" He looked troubled.

"POTTER!" The voice came from his pocket. Harry hurriedly pulled out a small square device that was blaring words out. "GET YOUR $%@$ $!# BACK AT BASE AND DRAG PETERSON WITH YOU!" There was a beep and Harry tucked the device into his pocket, looking slightly annoyed.

"What'd we do _now_?" Lance moaned.

***

A/N: You made it! Yay! Now you get to write a review! Isn't that just swell? No school today, ice day, you know, so I figured, what a great time to post this! So what does everybody think? Favorite character NOW? I'm interested in your opinions. And what does everything think of Maggie and her….interesting abilities? Who do you think Victim 23 is? Leave a review for me!!!


	5. 

A/N: Well, it's been quite awhile, hasn't it

A/N: Well, it's been quite awhile, hasn't it? I'm sorry I haven't been posting anything – trust me, I WILL finish this and I will answer all of your questions. I'd like to thank the person who pointed out about the song title – I guess I've got to visit with Mr. Napster more often, even if I do have to pay for it…

PS – I hope to answer most of the questions THIS chapter, you just have to peel your eyes for my hints. Boy, I'm going to have _fun_ with this! Getting out right about now might permit you to leave with your life…

The Final Countdown – Truth to the Third

Harry rubbed both hands through his hair as he watched the closed door of the chief's office, where Jani and Lance were getting solidly reamed by the sound of the shouts of anger coming out. Officer Wahles (their makeshift chief) was clearly annoyed by something, and from the sound of the words emerging from the room ("Death Eaters!" "Dark Mark!" "Fire!"), it was something big they'd screwed up on. After much restless shifting from Harry's part, the door swung open and Lance slowly stepped out, staring straight ahead like a zombie. Jani, confident and cool like always, stepped out after him and sank into a chair with a weary shake of her head. "Good luck," she muttered as Harry walked past her.

Officer Wahles's office was just like any other standard chief's office. A plaque bearing his name was the only thing on the right wall and the left wall was pretty much just a wall with a shade-covered window. In the center sat a very ordinary brown desk, behind which the overly thin Officer Whales was plumped. He glared at Harry as he strode in and sat down. "Why haven't you been answering the calls?" he demanded.

Harry pulled his call box out of his pocket and plopped it onto the desk. "You tell me. I _haven't gotten any_." He crossed his arms and watched as Officer Wahles picked up the small gold call box and examined it closely. "Why did you call us back to the office?"

"Just look at the mess this is causing. The Department for Disuse of Time Magic is going nuts." Officer Wahles, still examining the call box, shoved an article in Harry's general direction. "**Time Magic Spurts Popping Up Everywhere**" flashed the headline in big, bold letters. "Take a look. Popping up all over the place, all right. In London, near Ottery St. Catchpole, even in the states, see? New Hersy or something – "

"I do believe it's called New Jersey. Do they know why?" Harry asked, eyebrows scrunching down as he scanned over the contents of the article.

"No, they're completely baffled. I want you and Peterson on the case. This could be some dangerous criminal we're dealing with and you and Peterson are the most competent agents we have," Officer Wahles returned the call box back to Harry and hunkered his uni-brow down over his eyes, looking like he was trying to cut a very rough deal.

"We'll take the case, but I want you to know that we're still dealing with the Granger Files. We _know_ for a fact that she's still alive – I saw her just the other night – but finding her and keeping her is going to be difficult." Harry leaned back into his chair. "We uncovered several things about Granger's past…she is definitely in some way affiliated with Death Eaters."

"So Peterson _wasn't_ making up tales, heh. Dismissed, Potter!"

***

"Gotten anywhere yet?" Ginny asked, creeping into the study and glancing at the piles of books scattered around Ron. He had been searching for a reason to Maggie's abnormal ability to change her age at will, and from the frustrated set of his chin, he hadn't found anything so far.

"These are all of Hermione's old books. Trust her to do some complicated spell on a little child. I've run across a few ideas – " and Ron tapped a paper with much scribbling all over it next to him – "and I think we're going to have to puzzle them out. Knowing Hermione, she would have done something so complicated that we won't be able to figure out what's wrong with Maggie. Timmy never showed any of these strange symptoms."

"But you said so yourself, he's a genius," Ginny remarked, pulling up another chair to the expansive desk in her study and picking up a book. "I just got an owl from Mum. Maggie's in bed at her house, and some people came by about your burned down apartment."

"Insurance will cover it, I'm sure," Ron muttered, nose very deeply buried into _What Time Is It Now?_ "The fairy burned it down, whoever _that_ is." He sighed and closed the book, before picking up _The Ultimate Guide to Knowing When You Are_. "I suppose this would be vital information if you have to change times constantly."

"Or ages," Ginny remarked.

Ron stared at her for a long moment, then glanced down at his paperwork. "Ginny, you're a genius!"

Ginny blinked at him. "What?"

Ron didn't seem to have heard her, but he answered her question anyway as he shuffled through papers in a hurry! They're both kids, right?"

"Gee, really, Ron?" Ginny asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes and picking up _Using Thyme and Such To Make Time_. 

"No, they're very young children, so that means that their thoughts are pretty simple! Hermione knows that! She _gave_ Maggie the power to change her age – and possibly the time – but she knew that Maggie wouldn't be able to handle it on her own." Papers flew as Ron burrowed deeper into the stack that had accumulated. Finally, he surfaced with a manilla envelope and pulled the contents out.

"That's where _Timmy _comes in," he babbled on excitedly. "I don't know how I know this, but he's an absolute genius. Suppose that to find something. "I think I may be able to figure another definite connection between Timmy and Maggie maybe Hermione got it so that Timmy was Maggie's _stabilizer_? They can hear each other's thoughts, and Maggie's ability to change her age has been going nuts since Timmy was kidnapped! Coincidence? I think not!"

Ginny just stared as Ron exploded from his chair (ignoring the fact that it crashed loudly to the ground) and paced excitedly. "So what's all of this about a weapon that could destroy the world?" she finally asked, trying to avoid the thought that the whole thing was pretty much unreal.

"Ginny, if my theory is correct, do you realize how much power these kids have? Timmy could will both of them to go back to the beginnings of Wizardry and possibly more. They could destroy Hogwarts…And _who_ wants to destroy Hogwarts?"

"You-Know-Who…" Ginny trailed off, and gave Ron a funny look. "But Harry killed him, didn't he?"

"Yes. But You-Know-Who left one thing to terrorize this world." Ron slapped the paper he had been looking for onto the desk so that the colored-in picture of the Dark Mark shone ominously against the white sheet.

"The Death Eaters! They kidnapped Timmy, didn't they?" Ginny's eyes grew wide. "Ron, you're an absolute genius!"

"That still doesn't give us any clue as to where Timmy _is_," Ron muttered, squashing the happy glint that came into Ginny's eyes.

As if his words as set off some kind of cue, rapping exploded from the window and Ron opened it to find an owl, completely black, sitting there and glaring at him. It pecked at him irritably as he struggled with the twine that bound the letter to its leg, but Ron quickly lost interest in this as he opened the letter. The owl flew off, unnoticed, as Ron's face grew white and he passed the scrawled note along. "Ginny, we're going to America…"

***

"Who uses time magic and that much of it?" Harry pondered when they had reached Lance's house again. "And _why_?" He continued pacing, which was rapidly getting on Jani's nerves. She was trying to concentrate on the textbook of time magic spread across her lap, and Jani was not the sort that could concentrate with somebody pacing annoyingly in front of her.

"Could you stop that?" she snapped.

Harry gave her an almost-wounded look and sat down on the couch.

"All over England, too," Lance added, ignoring the two. "I mean, we've got some in a small town of Ottery St. Catchpole and…"

"Where?" Harry asked, looking only slightly interested.

Lance repeated the name.

"Oh, I've never heard of it, because it doesn't ring any bells," Harry dismissed that thought.

Jani, deep into the textbook, looked up. "I don't know exactly where it is. But it's where the magic struck last, but all they found there was a family of redheads who do magic. The Weasleys."

Harry paled. "Oh, yeah…"

"What about the Granger case?" Lance asked after a long moment of silence that ensued Harry's comment.

"They've got to be tied together!" Jani suddenly leapt to her feet and started pacing herself. "Hermione was Ron Weasley's best friend during school, his sweetheart even! Suddenly a whole bunch of time magic pops up at Weasley's house, right while Hermione is jumping around from place to place. Coincidence? I don't believe in coincidences."

*** 

"This the place?" Lance asked only instants after he had Apparated into place on the Weasley's front lawn. The rather crooked-looking house, The Burrow, was still there, with its dirty gardens and homey feeling. Jani was already on her way to the front porch, and Harry wasn't far behind, face strangely ashen.

A dumpy looking woman of about fifty answered the door, looking confused at the late hour. She had pulled a dressing robe around herself and her hair was in curlers. "Yes?" she asked crisply, eyeing them all. Then she saw Harry and the crispness disappeared into a wreathing smile. "Harry! It's so good of you to visit, but Ron's not here! He took Maggie to visit Timmy and Charlie in America!"

"Where in America?" Jani asked, because it looked like Harry was in shock. "We need to speak with him," she explained hastily.

"Ginny only said something about an arch," Mrs. Weasley said, and invited them in for a late night cup of coffee and some cookies, but Jani declined politely and the trio left with this new information.

"What the heck is an arch and why would somebody go to America to see it?" Harry demanded as soon as they were out of hearing distance from the house. He turned to stare at the stars defiantly and turned back to see Lance whipping out the Muggle laptop. "Oh, no, not that thing again."

"This thing is gonna get us to America, now hang on," Lance muttered. He tapped some of the keys on the black keyboard and waited for a moment before light from the screen spilled across his face. "I've got us a location. It's a big thing in one of those American cities. St. Louis or something like that."

"Who would name a city 'St. Louie?'" Jani asked before she disappeared. Harry and Lance exchanged a look, rolled their eyes, and disappeared as well.

***

At approximately 10:46 at night, "Dr. Richard Snood" strode out of the Holding Complex, carrying a limp, redheaded boy. The guard on duty, young-faced Judd Watson, did not report that he had never laid eyes on Snood in his life before because the doctor carried a legitimate Area Pass, complete with photo. Upon interrogation hours later, Judd remarked that the doctor did have a funny sort of walk, as if he were in pain or something.

But "Snood" was already out of the area and speeding quickly towards the Atlantic Ocean in a borrowed Sportscar.

……

A/N: Okay, that was a bit abrupt, I know, but I've got to get this thing out. The next chapter is the last chapter where everything is revealed!! Sorry, no appearances from Hermione this chapter. I hope that explained quite a bit, but still left you hanging. I apologize because this is so short!!!

_-_ Shadow Signing Out -_-


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